"Does Jayden know that this is happening?" Sherlock asked.
"No." John answered. "Or at least, I don't think so."
"Good."
"How-" John hesitated, "How bad is it? How often?"
"Just snippets, here and there. Even while it's happening, I'm aware that it's not real," Sherlock sipped his tea, inhaling the warmth of it. "but it... feels like it is."
"What happens to you physically? Does you're heart rate change? Do you see these things in third person or first? What about your respiratory system, any changes there?"
"Stop mother-henning me, John." Sherlock said. "I'll be fine."
"Sherlock, you're describing either hallucinations or flashbacks, neither of which is the definition of fine."
"Maybe I'm not fine now, but I'll get through it John." Sherlock said. "I always have."
"I don't want this to be the time that breaks that 'always' Sherlock." John said. "You've got the help of others, why won't you use it?"
"Because I'm not sure it would do any good." Sherlock said simply. "If even I can't figure out what's happening to me, then how can you expect to?"
"I'm a war veteren invalided home from Afghanistan with PTSD and a psychosomatic limp." John said. "I think I know what I'm talking about when it comes to mental conditions."
"There is nothing wrong with me, John."
"Oh, yeah, like I believe that."
There was a moment of silence, tension still in the air, but not quite as thick as it had been the past few days. After awhile Sherlock spoke.
"I'm sorry you thought I was angry at you. It wasn't my intention to make you think that I was." Sherlock said.
"You don't need to apologize, Sherlock." John said. "I get it."
"So you do." Sherlock confirmed, slowly nodding down.
The place felt as though there was supposed to be snow falling down on them enveloping the streets of London in a soft, crystal white covering. It was a sort of tired day, as though all energy had been sucked from the earth, leaving no one with the desire to think or move. They ought to be sitting in front of a fire, drinking cocoa, staring at the flames.
"What do you see, Sherlock?" John asked.
Sherlock closed his eyes in a slow blink before opening them again.
"I don't know." He said. "I never get the full scene. There's always something obstructing my vision. The faces, they're always blurry, the voices, always partially distorted. I can hear just enough, and see just enough to recognize the scene as something I've been in before." Sherlock slid his fingers around the teacup, lifting it up just enough that a splash of the warm liquid touched his tongue. "But when I search my memory, no such thing exists."
"What parts do you see?" John asked. "What's the feeling associated with the... visions, I guess?"
"It's always cold, frightening, unfriendly, but... familiar." Sherlock said. "Usually someone else with me-"
"Who?" John asked.
"I don't know." Sherlock said.
"What do they look like?"
"A boy, older than me. A short, a compact frame. A soft voice, much more friendly than the others."
"What do the others sound like?" John asked.
"Angry, frightened." Sherlock answered, his brows pulling together in the middle.
"Who are they angry at?"
Sherlock's lips parted to speak, but then halted.
"We've got to work through this Sherlock." John said. "Who were they angry at?"
"I don't know."
"You finished?" Lestrade asked.
Jayden nodded, taking the last sip of his milkshake.
"Let's head back then." Lestrade said.
The car ride was a peaceful one, a lot of the earlier conflicts having been dissolved.
Lestrade glanced over at Jayden who was sitting in the passenger seat, and a smile slowly slid onto his face.
"What?" Jayden asked, one eyebrow raising, very similarly, Lestrade noted, to the way Sherlock did.
"Nothing." Lestrade said. "Just glad that we're getting this mess cleaned up."
Jayden slowly walked into the living room, slightly nervous about the conversation that would take place. He hoped John would be alone, Sherlock in a different room or something. He hoped everything was fixed between them.
As it turned out, John was alone, sitting in his chair reading.
Jayden sat down in Sherlock's chair across from him.
"I'm sorry." Jayden said suddenly.
John glanced up at the voice, his eyes squinting.
"For what?"
"For... for ignoring you," Jayden said.
"Jayden, I deserved that plus a thousand times more." John sighed. "I still do."
"No, I should have thought about what it looked like from your point of view." Jayden said. "After Mycroft got involved, you didn't really have a choice, did you?"
John shook his head. "Not really."
"Why would Mycroft do this?" Jayden asked.
"What do you mean?" John asked.
"I mean, why do they hate each other so much?" Jayden said. "What did Mycroft gain from this?"
"I don't know." John answered. "Satisfaction from knowing he'd outsmarted his brother? Something like that?"
"Sherlock was already stressed though, he wasn't at his best." Jayden said. "He achieved nothing but proving that he's willing to fight unfairly."
"I don't know, Jayden."
John stood up from his seat and walked over to the kitchen grabbing a cup from the cabinet.
"I was just refilling my cuppa," John said. "You want some?"
Jayden nodded, and soon enough they were both sitting with steaming tea in their cups.
"Where's Sherlock?" Jayden asked.
"In his room, I think." John said.
"Was he angry at you?"
John shook his head. "I thought so, but turns out he wasn't." he said. "He's just got a lot on his mind. Things will get back to normal soon, don't worry."